Claire stood near the edge of the first terrace, her fear of heights forgotten in the shadow of her awe. Et Tessera was the most beautiful city she had ever seen, if not the most precariously situated. Red roofed buildings clung to the cliffside, cobblestone roads winding between them, twisting back and forth until they reached the water below. Cliffs enclosed the bay in a half circle and tall white towers stood at the mouth, flames burning bright at the tops. The ocean stretched out before her, so vast that the blue seemed to meld with the sky, and she was not able to tell where one ended and the next began.

People of every color were everywhere, their clothing as diverse as their ethnicities. Flowers and cloth streamers of red and yellow decorated the streets and sounds of cheering and upbeat music drifted up from a square below. Claire could feel the energy surge throughout her, something she hadn’t felt for weeks. Perhaps even months. The last time she’d seen anything like it was in Rodem. But she had tried to forget many of the things that happened there. She shook her head to chase away the memories.

It was then that she finally heard it, the voice of one silver-haired elf arguing with the eye-patched one.

“And what makes you think I take orders from you?” Captain Bahadur growled.

Claire reluctantly tore her eyes away from the view and turned just in time to witness the captain’s bravery as he stepped up close to Farron. The elf just stared at him, face blank. But Claire knew better. Where her anger was a burning flame, his was as cold as the winter winds. So, instead of witnessing the start to the next Great War, she stepped in to save the day. “And what exactly is the problem here, boys?” She arched an eyebrow and put her hands on her hips. What could they possibly be angry about now?

Captain Bahadur turned his scowl on her. “He suggests that we stay here for the night.”

Claire couldn’t help but balk at that. “And why wouldn’t we?” If there was one thing she’d been looking forward to for the past few weeks, it was a nice warm bed. Especially before spending the next few weeks on board a boat.

“If you haven’t forgotten, there seems to be more than one party after you. The more time we spend in one place, the greater the chances of someone finding you again.”

Claire sighed. “I assure you, Captain, that they already know where I am. I am well aware of that fact. And that is precisely why the king and Council sent you and your men along with me. As far as I am concerned, I will be staying the night at an inn. Whether you and your boys join me is up to you.”

It took a long moment for the captain to calm himself, and Claire could almost see him physically try to swallow his pride. It looked painful. The captain’s fears were not unfounded, of course, and maybe he was correct. They should leave as fast as they could. She wanted to, almost as much as she wanted to stay. But as long as she was free, she would always be running. Her time was running short, so she might as well enjoy the life she had left, right?

“As you wish, my lady,” Captain Bahadur acquiesced finally. “But we leave at first light.”

Claire nodded, and with that, he turned and doled out orders to his men. They would leave the horses here; transporting them would be too costly and dangerous to their health. Claire lamented leaving behind Azra, having formed a bond with her. It was up to the captain to secure a boat, Chet to take care of the horses, Graham to find a suitable inn, Zeriod to buy any supplies they may need, and Alan got stuck with her and the jovial elf. The captain stormed off before he could give her orders. Perhaps he didn’t care. In any case, it was nice to be away from him. Things were sure to be plenty tense among her current company. Claire turned to face them— two opposites of a coin, Alan bright and cheery like a sunny day, and Farron, well… he looked so much like a rain cloud at the moment she was surprised lightning didn’t start crackling around him.

“Well,” she said, struggling to stifle a smile. “Might as well enjoy while we still can.” Her expression faltered when she considered the implications of the statement. Farron gave her a sharp look, but she turned to the crowd before he could say anything and plunged in, squeezing between people.

Makeshift stalls stood on either side of the narrow streets, the shop owners calling out their wares. Claire reveled in the atmosphere. The music, the crowds, the markets— it all reminded her of her favorite time of year back home. She used to like to imagine the faraway lands the people would come from, never dreaming that one day she may actually get to see them. The two men trailed behind her, their watchful presence relieving some of her paranoia. She didn’t like it, living with the constant fear, not knowing who she could trust, who was watching her, when the next attempt on her life or freedom would come. She tried her best to push the feeling down.

She weaved through the crowd, skillfully avoiding an aggressive craftsman that shoved a silver bracelet in her face. The upbeat music grew louder as they turned the corner, following the twisting road down to the square she saw earlier from above, the drums vibrating to her bones, the violins humming across her skin as a lilting flute teased her ears. Excitement filled her as the crowd became denser, the cheers and clapping erupting all around her as they watched what was happening in the center. Curiosity driving her mad, she tried to find a way to push through, standing on her tip-toes, jumping, but to no avail. The audience was too thick. Farron nudged her with his elbow then, and with a nod, gestured to a signpost nearby, the brick base just wide enough to stand upon. With childlike glee, Claire scrambled up the post high enough to see past the sea of heads in her way. Alan and Farron came up next to her, both already tall enough to forgo their own boosts.

Holding on for dear life, Claire watched in awe as the group of men danced in the center of the crowd. Each brandished a flag of gold or red to match the sash around their waists, the rest of their outfits relatively plain brown slacks and white shirt. But they weren’t just dancing, she realized— they were fighting. Or mock fighting. The clack of the poles rang out as they collided. The men dipped under and jumped over the flags in perfect unison, so elegant. Fighting as an art. A concept she hadn’t thought of before, though at times Farron had come close to just that. She glanced over at the elf in question. A smirk showed on his face and she didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing.

“It’s to commemorate the men that fell during the Great War,” he said without taking his eyes off the performance. “And their victory over… my kind.” He said the last part resentfully.

She supposed she couldn’t really blame him. To be hated and discriminated against because of something your ancestors did in the distant past, it didn’t seem fair. She glanced around at the crowd. She had been so caught up in the festivities, she hadn’t noticed how people were reacting to him. A few threw uneasy glances in his direction. And hopefully, that was all they would do. They didn’t need another incident like the one in Lendon. That would attract all sorts of unwanted attention. She thought again about buying him a scarf, but he was way too stubborn to ever wear it.

The music reached a crescendo, drawing her attention back to the dancers. The men sparred, swinging and dodging, the movements becoming quicker with the music, until suddenly the men in gold fell to the ground, the men in red standing victorious over them. Flower petals shot up into the air from the crowd and rained down around the dancers. The crowd erupted in applause and shouts as the men bowed. Claire clapped right along, impressed by the display. Just when she thought it was over, the music started up once again, a jovial tune that lacked the power of the first song, but fun nonetheless. The men tossed their flags to a few men standing to the side, helpers by the look of them, and in turn, they tossed wreaths of flowers to the men. Curious, Claire stayed to watch. If the flags represented weapons, what did the flowers mean? She was about to turn to Farron again, when the men spread out along the square, each searching the crowd for something. It didn’t take long for her to get her answer as one by one, the men selected young women from the crowd and pulled them into the square for a dance.

The smile disappeared from her face, the blood draining away when she noticed one of the men motioning to her. She shook her head vigorously. The last thing she needed was to embarrass herself in front of such a crowd. But that only emboldened the man more. The people surrounding her turned and started to encourage her, clapping and smiling. They parted enough for the man to make his way to her. He held a hand up to her. Claire took it hesitantly, throwing an uneasy glance at her companions.

“Claire, don’t—” Farron started to say.

But the man pulled her down and into the square before he could finish. They joined the other couples twirling in the center. Claire tried her best to keep up as he pulled her close, following his nimble footsteps with her own clumsy ones. But before long, she was smiling with the rest of them, the dance coming more naturally the more she eased into it. The man said something to her in a language she didn’t recognize. She looked up at him and shook her head. He was handsome in a simple way, dark brown hair and brown eyes. His smile came easily and naturally, bright like the sun. Infectious. Claire’s own grew wider. She knew she looked like a fool, stumbling around to a dance she knew nothing about, but at the moment, she didn’t really care. However, she glanced around to find an elf that very much did. The dark cloud seemed to settle over Farron once again. Claire could only shrug. It was just a dance, wasn’t it?

But her unease started to grow again as she noticed one by one, the couples had stopped dancing. The men bowed low to the curtsying women and they placed the flower wreaths on their heads. The crowd started to cheer once again. The man she was dancing with stopped suddenly and bowed low before her. Claire stood still, unsure what was happening. The man just smiled, easing her tension a bit. He moved to place the wreath on her head, but before he could complete the action, a black gloved hand reached out to snatch it out of his hands. Claire whirled on Farron, her eyes wide in confusion. Just what was he doing?

“Unless you wish to be courted by this man, I suggest you not let him do that,” he said, anger clear in his voice. And on his face.

Claire’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and the whole thing finally dawned on her. She looked around at the blushing young women and could feel her own cheeks grow warm. It was a courting dance. How was she supposed to know? Especially when the man had picked her of all people, and in the state she was in, no less. She peered up at the man in question. He didn’t look fazed by the elf’s intrusion. Perhaps it happened occasionally. Jealous lovers interrupting. How could it not?

“Well,” she said, looking the man up and down. He was certainly cute enough. The thought of a marriage with the man flashed through her mind. How nice would that be? To settle down in such a beautiful place, living a simple, carefree life. “Perhaps that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.”

Farron’s expression grew cold and he shoved the wreath into her hands. “I hope you two have a happy life then.” He turned and stormed off into the crowd. People stepped warily out of his way, no doubt fearing for their lives. Claire could only imagine his expression.

A sinking feeling started in her stomach. Suddenly she felt terrible, pushing him away like that. To say something so cruel. She thought about chasing after him, but in the end, it would do her no good. What would she say? That she hadn’t meant it? That they could be together? She couldn’t give him that sort of hope.

She looked meekly up at the man before handing the wreath back to him. “I’m sorry.” She shook her head, hoping he understood. “I am honored, but I can’t.”

The man bowed again, his expression a little sad. He tore a single purple flower out of the wreath and handed it to her. Claire took it and gave him a parting smile before turning to find Alan.

Alan stood right where she had left him, looking a little unsure of what to do. “Should we go after him?” he asked, though it looked like that prospect scared him a little.

Claire just shook her head. “He’ll be fine.” She wasn’t positive if he would be or not, though. How long had she been torturing him? How many times had she tugged his feelings around? How many times would she have to? The fact that he hadn’t run far away from her was truly astonishing. And even though that was what she wanted, she didn’t look forward to the day it actually happened. Perhaps that day would come sooner than she thought… Not getting on that boat in the morning would probably be the best thing that he could ever do.

With a sigh, Claire turned and made her way through the crowd once again, her good mood deflated. Alan followed silently behind her. She found an empty space along the railing and looked out at the sea once again, resting her chin on her hands as she watched the sun dip lower towards the horizon.

Alan leaned his back on the rail. “There’s more to you two, isn’t there?” he asked, his voice careful.

A short burst of laughter escaped her lips. “How could you tell?” She glanced sideways at him.

He met her smile with a grin of his own. “I just never thought that someone like him could actually fall in love.”

Claire chuckled slightly at that. “You know, I believe I said the same thing once.” She stretched, leaning back, her hands gripping the banister. “It’s… complicated,” she said, though that was definitely an understatement. “Do you choose to do the right thing? Or what makes you happy no matter the consequences?” She gazed out, seeing everything and nothing, getting lost in her thoughts. “Either way, there won’t be a happy ending.”

She could feel Alan shift uncomfortably next to her. He was quiet for a moment before answering her. “I don’t know, my lady,” he said softly. “I suppose if it were up to me, I would do whatever made me happy for the time being. But then again, I can’t imagine I would ever be in your position either. Though seeing what you two could do, your powers, his skills— I couldn’t imagine that anything could stand in your way.”

Claire looked at him again and he gave her a hopeful smile. “Perhaps…” She considered that for a few moments. But the reality of her situation dashed it away. It was a sweet thought, but he didn’t know the whole of it. There were people that could harm him, no matter how strong the legendary King’s Shadow was. And that was something she did not want to happen. But deep down, she knew it was mostly her own fears that were stopping her. “But there’s no point in wasting the rest of the night moping about, is there?”

Alan straightened, his smile growing wider. “If that’s an order, my lady.”

“That it is,” Claire shot back before leading the way back into the throng. A bit of distraction was exactly what she needed.